Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Nobility -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
"Certainly not," rejoined Pine violently. "I don't wish my gypsy origin
to be known in the Gentile world. But if the truth did come to light,
there is nothing to be ashamed of. I commit no crime in calling myself
by a Gorgio name and in accumulating a fortune. You have no hold over
me." The man's look was so threatening that Silver winced.
"I don't hint at any hold over you," he observed mildly. "I am bound to
you both by gratitude and self-interest."
"Aha. That last is better. It is just as well that we have come to this
understanding. If you--" Pine's speech was ended by a sharp fit of
coughing, and Silver looked at his contortions with a thin-lipped smile.
"You'll kill yourself if you live this damp colonial sort of tent-life,"
was his observation. "Here, take a drink of water."
Pine did so, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his rough coat.
"You're a Gorgio," he said, weakly, for the fit had shaken him, "and
can't understand how a bred and born Romany longs for the smell of the
smoke, the space of the open country, and the sound of the kalo jib.
However, I did not ask you here to discuss these things, but to take my
instructions."
"About Lady Agnes?" asked the secretary, his eyes scintillating.
"You have had those long ago, although, trusting my wife as I do, there
was really no need for me to ask you to watch her."
"That is very true. Lady Agnes is exceedingly circumspect."
"Is she happy?"
Silver lifted his shoulders. "As happy as a woman can be who is married
to one man while she loves another."
He expected an outburst of anger from his employer, but none came. On
the contrary, Pine sighed, restlessly. "Poor soul. I did her a wrong in
making her my wife. She would have been happier with Lambert in his
poverty."
"Probably! Her tastes don't lie like those of other women in the
direction of squandering money. By the way, I suppose, since you are
here, that you know Lambert is staying in the Abbot's Wood Cottage?"
"Yes, I know that. And what of it?" demanded the millionaire sharply.
"Nothing; only I thought you would like to know. I fancied you had come
here to see if--"
"I did not. I can trust you to see that my wife and Lambert do not meet
without spying myself."
"If you love and trust your wife so entirely, I wonder you ask me to spy
on her at all," said Silver with a faint sneer.
"She is a woman, and we gypsies have sufficient of the Oriental in us to
mistrust even the most honest women. Lambert has not been to The Manor?"
"No. That's a bad sign. He can't trust himself in her presence."
"I'll choke the life out of you, rat that you are, if you talk in such a
way about my wife. What you think doesn't matter. Hold your tongue, and
come to business. I asked you here to take my instructions."
Silver was rather cowed by this outburst, as he was cunning enough to
know precisely how far he could venture with safety. "I am waiting," he
observed in sullen tones.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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